Kelp

 

This golden kelp

is jeweled and tooled

by the tide.

Beads and bulbs

swelling along

rubbery ropes.

Slippery ribbons rising,

inflated blades wavering,

waving leathery hands

in deep seawater,

then washed and sloshed

upon the sandy shore.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

Monterey Bay - California

Sounding Joy

 

I welcome the return

of the Song Sparrow.

Its long song

lingers in the air,

then repeats

the sounding joy.

Up and down the scale,

each note worthy of praise.

to one who knows

nothing about music,

but treasures the song

and is grateful to be

in the audience

of one.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Saul Lake Bog - Cannonsburg, Michigan

2. Cannonsburg State Game Area - Cannon Township - Michigan

3. Home Woods - Cannonsburg, Michigan 

Green Space

 

Don't you love the green space

that early spring brings us?

When the deep purples of hepatica

manifest their soft velvet royalty,

hugging the ground when

the rich soil warms in the woods.

When the vibrant yellows

of Trout Lily brighten

the floor of the forest

arching above bland winter leaves.

When the pure white petals

of Bloodroot unfurl and expand

in warm sunlight, then close

into a cup during overcast.

Don't you love the green space?

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Townsend Park - Kent County - Michigan

2. Home Woods - Cannonsburg, Michigan

3. & 4. Gavin Lake - Grattan Township - Kent County - Michigan

Black Robes

 

Ravens wear black robes,

sweep over mesas,

slide into dark pines,

settle on stout branches.

Sleek silk shines

along their contours.

They walk more dignified

than their cousin, 

the Common Crow,

and they know how to sail

on broad, fixed wings.

Ravens survive and thrive

because they understand the land.

And should you find yourself

close enough to see

their prominent beak;

their "Roman Nose",

you may also hear them

"krawk".

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Santa Fe, New Mexico

2. Alamosa, Colorado

3. Bisbee, Arizona

Holy Thursday

 

Along the shallowing shore,

the soft lips of spent waves

kiss the smooth stones.

Lake Superior water,

too cold to swim, but 

just deep enough 

here at the edge

to wash human feet

in this rounded, stony basin;

reminding me of

the ceramic basin used 

on Holy Thursday.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

Taconite Harbor, Minnesota

Bleached

 

Some bleached leaves

on the beech trees

have clung all winter

to cold, narrow twigs.

It's another cool, overcast day

here in West Michigan.

We are well into April now, and 

those little blond banners are still waving.

I'll wait patiently for these remnant leaves

to release their grip,

and be ready for the conical buds

to swell from copper scales,

then slowly unfurl

into soft, pastel greens,

to unfold their tight pleats

and spread life into the May sunshine.

Photo Locations:

1. 2. 3. 4. Home Woods - Cannonsburg, Michigan

Payette

 

All the silver threads

glittering in the Payette River

briefly reflect the light, then blend 

into the blue-green water

as the current weaves

a liquid tapestry

through the canyon;

laughing as it tumbles

over large boulders,

obeying gravity,

joyful on its journey.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. 2. & 3. Payette River - Idaho

mangroves

 

ever-expanding

their slow walk through the wetlands

mangroves will survive

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

Ten Thousand Islands NWR - Naples, Florida

1994

 

I've carried nineteen years of memories

for twenty-eight years.

Counting his beginning steps at six months,

then, as a toddler, his trusting little hand 

holding my finger as we walked outside together.

Playing in Lake Michigan

at four years old.

Soothing his hurts from early spills

on his bike at six years.

Estimating the length of the bass we caught

in the Grand River when he was fourteen.

Worrying the hours while waiting for him

to return home; driving at sixteen.

Timing the miles during Forest Hills Central 

Track and Cross Country meets at seventeen.

Calculating his climbs while hiking with Ross Peterson

on the Appalachian Trail at eighteen.

Crying the tears over his death

in November of nineteen ninety-four.

Saying the prayers at his gravestone

when I'm forty-six, or seventy-four.

Carrying years of memories up the slopes;

 memories as permanent as mountains.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

End Note: 

This year Aaron would be 47. Born on April 2, 1975.

I was 46 when he died at age 19, on November 20, 1994.

Photo Locations:

1. First Home - Cascade, Michigan - Photo by Mary Havenga

2. Lake Michigan - Charles Mears State Park - Pentwater, Michigan 

3. Mom & Dad's Farm - Ada, Michigan

4. East Grand Rapids

5. Appalachian Trail National Park  - Photo by Ross Peterson 

6. West Elk National Wilderness Area - Colorado